


do you really have to know?

by spndrea



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on a Twitter Post, Criminal's Son Jongin, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, President's Son Taemin, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, because there's not enough taekai in this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spndrea/pseuds/spndrea
Summary: He should care. Should care about the risk of potentially ruining not only hisfather’slife, but also the ones of the countless employees he greets with a smile every morning. He can already see the headlines behind his closed eyes;Lee Taemin, President’s Son, caught in Threatening Relationship with Son of the Most Wanted Criminal in the Country.He shouldreallycare, but the hands sliding over his thighs and the lips crashing back onto his own with a passion Taemin had never felt before made it increasingly difficult to think about anything else besides the pure feeling offreedomthat settled deep in his chest.Based on thepromptfrom @taekaibible on Twitter!





	do you really have to know?

It was never supposed to go this far.

 

Never supposed to go as far as to where Taemin would stand with his back pressed against a dirty bathroom wall, hot lips leaving trails over his pale neck while his own hands roamed over the silky material of the others’ shirt.

 

He should care. Should care about the risk of potentially ruining not only his _father’s_ life, but also the ones of the countless employees he greets with a smile every morning. He can already see the headlines behind his closed eyes; _Lee Taemin, President’s Son, caught in Threatening Relationship with Son of the Most Wanted Criminal in the Country._

 

He should _really_ care, but the hands sliding over his thighs and the lips crashing back onto his own with a passion Taemin had never felt before made it increasingly difficult to think about anything else besides the pure feeling of _freedom_ that settled deep in his chest.

 

 

-

 

 

Lee Taemin, 19 years of age and second son of the President of the country, hated nothing more than being bored. People probably wouldn’t expect the life as the President’s son to be utterly boring, but Taemin would love to prove them wrong. There weren’t many things to do in a big mansion with employees rushing through the hallways at every hour of the day, even if you had an older brother to annoy. Even that became boring at times.

 

His father also wouldn’t let him walk around the city without _at least_ one bulky security guard by his side. It was horrible, really, to never be able to breathe without someone checking your every step.

 

So, what Taemin did every other night since he was eighteen was to sneak out through the window of a nearly empty backroom and walk through the dark city with a hood covering his face and act as if he was just your usual college student. Some days he would enjoy sitting in the nearby park for hours on end, other days he’d end up in the local club drinking just enough to not puke into his own bed back at home, but mostly he’d visit the abandoned warehouse nearly outside of the city to dance for himself.

 

It wasn’t high maintenance, definitely not, but maybe that was exactly what Taemin loved about it. The dusty smell of gravel and the rough sound of his feet sliding across the concrete paired with the bass of the nightly song thrumming through the thick walls.

 

It was peaceful. _Different._

To say that Taemin would’ve rather lived a life where he wouldn’t have had to watch his every move, where he wouldn’t have been forced to sneak out of his own home at 19 years old, goes without saying, he supposes.

 

It’s the same tonight; waiting until the lights in the corridor go out and only the occasional shuffle from the security guards outside could be heard before slipping out of his bed and grabbing his backpack with a change of clothes. He walked through the dark hallway with ease, knowing the big house blind after the countless escapes, and opened the door to the backroom next to the kitchen. He slid the window open and threw his backpack out first before swinging himself over the sill, landing on his feet with a huff. He waited for a moment in case someone was to come after him, but after a minute of pure silence he started walking in the main direction of his nightly destination.

 

 

-

 

 

He came across the warehouse for the first time two years ago when he was a little too lost in his own head and didn’t notice how far away from downtown he’d walked. So when he looked up and took notice of the worn down warehouse, the frown on his face turned into a gaze of surprise and – of course – curiosity. And even though he could’ve maybe been murdered or at least kidnapped in that abandoned building, Taemin was still nothing but curious, which led him through the broken fence and into the warehouse.

 

He was a little thrown off by the dust littering every corner and the broken pieces of concrete stacked on top of each other in some places, and he was, like, 90% sure someone was about to hit him over the head with a baseball bat. But nothing happened, and when Taemin had stood there for a good ten minutes without moving a muscle, he finally laid his belongings down and started his playlist quietly.

 

He started going there a lot after that first time, the weekly escapes from the mansion now becoming nearly daily. He’d come home a lot later, too, only slipping through the door to his room when the birds already started chirping. It became a routine quicker than it probably should have.

 

So when he arrived at his spot today, it didn’t need any overcoming or courage to step through the fence or to walk further into the dark building. It became familiar too fast in the best way possible.

 

Everything was normal – at least as normal as a 19-year-old man dancing in an abandoned warehouse could be – as he started his music and begun moving his body based on muscle memory. He never took classes, and there weren’t even any mirrors around – maybe he’d bring one, someday – but it really didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to see himself.

 

His playlist just ended for the first time that night when Taemin heard something. He turned around, picking up his phone from the ground and turning on the flashlight to illuminate the big hall, his breath beginning to come out even more labored.

 

He was just about to blame it on some rocks falling from the ceiling and turn back to his backpack when he heard the low sound of a chuckle. Taemin whipped his head to the right, directing his flashlight at the entrance.

 

“Oh, feel free to continue. I liked the private show,” Taemin heard the tall boy standing beside the dusty wall say, smirk evident in his voice.

 

“Who are you? And what the hell are you even doing here?” Taemin asked, quite proud of the lack of waver in his voice. The stranger hummed, “I could really ask you the same thing, right?” With that, he started walking closer, and Taemin could see the dust particles flying around his feet. “What’s a boy like you doing out here all alone in a shithole like this?” The man continued walking towards him, and Taemin contemplated running away until he saw him halt, leaving a few feet between them.

 

Taemin searched his brain for an appropriate answer to give to a stranger in an abandoned warehouse at two in the morning, but only came up with a list on why he actually _should_ be running away.

 

His feet stayed put on the concrete, though, and his mouth started running on its own, saying, “I just needed some distraction, and it seems like dancing in a _shithole_ does it for me.” This time, the stranger laughed, and the sound nearly brought a smile to Taemin’s lips. “Huh, I guess I get the distraction thing. I used to come here a lot, too.”

 

They exchange a few words like that, Taemin learning that the man came here to get some peace and quiet to think, which proves to be hard when you live in a major city like Seoul, and Taemin nodded along the way. He understood the other better than he thought possible.

 

Taemin also told him a few things after they decided to sit down, still enough space between them for Taemin to run away if he needed to. He told the other so and his laugh sounded even clearer now than it did before.

 

Taemin told him _why_ he needed the distraction, told him about the sneaking out and the time one of the guards nearly ran after him after he fell ungracefully out of the window instead of hitting the ground with his feet. After some beats of comfortable silence, Taemin admitted to feeling out of place more often than not in the mansion with hundreds of employees scurrying through the halls only to bring his father new documents to sign. It felt good to let everything out, Taemin found, even if the other man was practically a stranger.

 

It was also obvious to Taemin that the other man knew who he was from the start, the harsh lighting of the flash more than enough to recognize Taemin, so it didn’t surprise him in the least when the other barely reacted upon hearing about his escapades in the mansion.

 

“Oh, wow, am I going to get arrested for finding the Lee Taemin in an abandoned warehouse nearly outside the city?”

 

Taemin snorted at the sarcasm, lightly hitting the man in the arm before he realized something.

 

“You still haven’t told me your name, _stranger_ ,” Taemin said, smiling towards the other.

 

The man blinked once and coughed slightly, “It’s Jongin. Kim Jongin.”

 

The name struck a chord inside Taemin, heartrate picking up again while his smile fell, a crumpled-up document on his father’s desk from a week ago flashing briefly through Taemin’s mind, making him dizzy.

 

“Uh, is something wrong?” He heard the other ask, but it barely registered in his brain.

 

“You- You’re _him._ You’re Kai.”

 

 _Kim Jongin,_ widely known as Kai, son of the most wanted Kingpin in the country, barely a year younger than Taemin himself, his father having been accused of one of the biggest drug-trades in modern history and an equally impressive arms-trade.

 

Jongin’s eyes widened. “How- Why do you know my name?”

 

Taemin stood up, Jongin mirroring his movements before taking a few steps back. “Do you think I don’t flip through my father’s files when I’m bored?” Taemin exclaimed, voice slightly wavering while his mouth felt increasingly more like the consistency of harsh sandpaper. The other man ran his hand through his hair, sighing. “You can’t tell anyone.”

 

Taemin’s eyes hardened, gaze clearly asking why he shouldn’t do so when he stood across the son of a wanted criminal.

 

“I- I’ve never done anything like my Dad, you can check everywhere. Remember when I told you that I used to come here, too?” Taemin gave a curt nod, silently urging Jongin to continue. “You’re not the only one sneaking past a father, Taemin. Except mine caught me and used some of his… _ways_ to make me promise I wouldn’t leave again and not get him caught.” His fingers came up to rub at the small scarring on his cheekbone, Taemin’s eyes following the slow movement. “So, I stayed at home for months until I came back tonight. But you were here, and I actually wanted to leave again but then I stepped on a rock and you saw me,” Jongin rambled on, clearly distressed, “so trust me when I tell you that I’m not like that. I’m only still with him because he would actually kill me if I left for good because I’m the only one that uses his dirty money to bail him out of jail every other month.”

 

For a few moments, Taemin just stared at him, not sure of what to think. Before he found out who Jongin was, Taemin had a surprisingly good time with a stranger he’d just met in the abandoned warehouse. But did it really matter if he enjoyed talking to him only to find out his father was the most wanted criminal in the country?

 

“If you never want to see me again, I’ll leave right now, just don’t tell anyone that you saw me,” Jongin sounded just like when they talked their first sentences. Preserved, but with a confidence that would be intimidating to someone who wasn’t Taemin. To someone who wasn’t _curious._

 

Taemin kept staring at him for a moment before taking a breath. “What if I do want to see you again?”

 

Jongin looked like he couldn’t believe what had just left Taemin’s mouth, which was fair because Taemin’s brain was screaming at him and asking _what the fuck he was doing_. But Taemin couldn’t think straight at the moment, and he isn’t sure if he even wanted to.

 

Jongin cleared his throat again after a moment and spoke gravelly, “Then we could agree to call this our spot and help distract each other from the lives we’re not supposed to live.”

 

Behind Taemin’s smile he knew, though, that they should’ve stopped this before it even begun.

 

 

-

 

 

They didn’t stop, though, and Taemin didn’t think that he ever wanted to stop talking to Jongin.

 

Of course, there was always the underlying doubt of Jongin playing him, of him only using Taemin to get some kind of information out of him, but when Taemin arrived back at home each morning, the birds chirping outside and feeling a lightness in his chest that he’d never felt before, he thought he should at least give Jongin this chance.

 

Taemin honestly didn’t know what made him think that Jongin was trustworthy enough to hang out with in an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, but something about the warm smile on the other’s face the next time they met up in the dark corners of the warehouse made Taemin not think about the consequences this _thing_ was destined to have. He _should_ have thought about them. But he _didn’t_. Because Taemin felt _good._ He felt at ease, as if Jongin’s presence finally let air flow into his lungs after being stuck underwater for too long. Taemin _should_ care – god, he should be _terrified_ – but all he could bring himself to feel was completely and utterly _consumed._

Consumed, by the way Jongin would begin to sit closer to Taemin on their fourth meetup. Consumed, when Jongin began telling him about how he had secretly taken ballet classes at the ages of ten to thirteen in some sketchy dance-studio in the middle of the city, his eyes gleaming with every word. _Consumed,_ when Jongin watched _him_ dance with an intensity in his eyes that Taemin had never seen before.

 

Lee Taemin was consumed by the mere existence of Kim Jongin, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it was bound to destroy him.

 

 

-

 

 

Taemin stopped counting how often they’ve met up already at around the 12th or 13th time.

 

Taemin was usually the first one to arrive, always waiting for Jongin to stumble across the same rock every time while he himself slid across the gravelly ground to the song he chose for that night. Tonight, though, as Taemin slipped through the broken fence and into the warehouse, he was surprised to find Jongin already sitting by the wall, a flashlight turned into the direction of their usual entry.

 

Taemin slid to the floor next to him, shoulders touching, before saying his greetings. “You’re early today,” he added after a few moments, the underlying question clear to Jongin.

 

“My father went out earlier tonight, nothing special. I think he has a new job to do. Didn’t tell me anything, though. Just comes home with more cash every day.” Jongin’s voice was unwavering, neutral, but Taemin could tell he was worried. Worried about his father or himself, he wasn’t sure.

 

Jongin seemed to read his thoughts, since he hummed quietly before saying, “I’m not worried about him, though. More about- everyone around me, I guess? You, too, I think. We’re not necessarily the best pairing in the world, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Taemin laughed. _Oh, he knew._ “But I like us.”

 

Jongin looked back at him finally, eyes crinkling with his smile.

 

“Me too.”

 

They sat like that, useless chatter about Taemin’s father continuously urging him to study for the upcoming speech and Taemin’s mother hauling him from fitting to fitting to find the best suit for him to wear.

 

 _I’m sure you already have, like, ten of the same suits,_ Jongin had laughed, Taemin agreeing with a laugh and a mutter of, _maybe even eleven._

Jongin also told him a lot about his family, that night.

 

He talked about his mother and sisters, who had all left the first time Jongin had to bail his father out of jail. His voice began wavering, then, always on the edge of breaking, and Taemin had to concentrate to understand every word of the quiet whispers Jongin talked in.

 

Taemin asked why Jongin didn’t leave, too, to which the other just shook his head and answered, “I hadn’t known they were leaving. I came home and saw a note from one of my sisters on my bed saying that she was sorry but that our Mom dragged her out of the house in her haste to get the fuck out. When my father came back the next morning, he made sure _I_ wouldn’t leave, too.

 

“I also couldn’t really go anywhere after that. I had no money and no other family besides my father. So I just tried staying out of his life as much as possible, which proved to be easier than I thought. I remember the first time I heard him come home with his men at night. I thought I was going to _die,_ ” he snorted, but Taemin couldn’t bring himself to.

 

“You shouldn’t have to live like this, Jongin,” he said, leaning back onto his hands. Jongin made an uncommitted noise, “Well, you shouldn’t have to live as the President’s son and try on ugly suits every day only to sneak out to an abandoned warehouse to hang out with me either, but here we are.”

 

Jongin smiled at him again, and Taemin found the creases around his eyes to be just a bit deeper this time.

 

 

-

 

 

“God, not to be a dick to our place, but it’s starting to drive me crazy with the need to sneeze every minute. I also think my ass is getting numb from sitting here all night,” Jongin whined one night after Taemin had just stopped dancing to his second song of the night.

 

Taemin hummed, trying to control his breathing as much as possible before willing Jongin to stand up. Upon seeing the younger frown, he explained, “you told me you dance, too, so I wanna finally see that side of you.”

 

Jongin let himself be dragged to his feet with the help of Taemin’s hands, making himself as heavy as humanly possible in the process. “I haven’t danced in, what, five years? I can’t just-“

 

Taemin cut him off with a hand to his mouth, watching the frown deepen on his forehead as his nose picked up the stark scent of sweat and old gravel on Taemin’s hands. “Yes, you can, and you will. You said you needed distraction, too, and as good of a companion as I am, I can’t do everything on my own,” Taemin said with a small smirk raising one corner of his lips. He saw Jongin’s shoulders raise and drop again while he sighed dramatically before moving his head to get rid of Taemin’s hand on his mouth. Taemin grinned in glee as the other made his way towards the phone laying on the ground to resume Taemin’s playlist.

 

Taemin watched him intrusively, eyes raking from his slender legs over his broad shoulders and finally to his face. He was looking at Taemin, seemingly forcing his limbs to move to the slow beat of the music. He started with small moves of his legs, sliding them smoothly across the dusty floor while following the movement with his arms, eyes focused on his fingertips stretching towards Taemin.

 

Seeing Jongin dance – not only bopping his head to the music Taemin was always playing, but actually _dance –_  made Taemin aware of two things.

 

One; Jongin was _beautiful._ Nothing new there, he could appreciate beauty when he sees it, and he _definitely_ sees it in Jongin, but seeing Jongin – all sharp moves in his arms, but fluidly controlled slide in his legs – made Taemin seemingly forget to breathe.

 

Two; He might like seeing Jongin dance – including some steps Taemin often used unconsciously, he noticed – more than he should.

 

When Jongin stopped at the end of the song, Taemin couldn’t remember if he even blinked _once_ through the whole time Jongin was dancing. Jongin gave a huff from himself before plopping down next to where Taemin was still standing, mouth slightly agape to release a wheeze of laughter. “Damn, so much for _I can’t dance anymore, Taemin, this is embarrassing, you’re going to laugh, I haven’t danced in five years._ God, I can’t believe you.”

 

Taemin sat down next to Jongin, who was clearly amused at Taemin’s exasperation, if the silent shaking of his shoulders and his barely contained laughter were anything to go by.

 

It took just one look for them at each other to burst into an inexplicable fit of laughter, and Taemin’s chest has never felt lighter.

 

 

-

 

 

Taemin sat anxiously on the park-bench, bouncing his knee repeatedly up and down in his attempt to calm his nerves.

 

He’s been waiting for Jongin for about thirty minutes now, and he began thinking that the other man had either not seen the big note Taemin had left next to the hole in the fence, or he was killed on his way to the small park Taemin was sitting in right now.

 

Taemin figured it would be nice to see each other somewhere else than in a nearly-broken-down building for once, especially after Jongin’s comment a few nights prior. So he had decided to write a note for Jongin to meet him up here - even gluing a small map on the paper in case he wouldn’t find it – but he’s starting to contemplate getting up and walking towards their usual spot.

 

He had the short thought of texting the other, but that was cut short when he remembered that Jongin’s father destroyed every phone he’d ever owned.

 

 _He says I would get him tracked by the Police, or something,_ he’d said to Taemin one night.

 

 _You probably would, I know from trusty sources that the President is just_ dying _to know his location,_ Taemin had teased, earning a shove to his shoulder and making him fall onto his back while laughing, Jongin quickly joining in.

 

Just as a smile began to form on his face at the memory, he felt two hands jerking his arms from behind. Upon turning around calmly, he saw Jongin pouting back at him. “How did you not even _flinch_ at that? I swear the next thing I find out about you is, that your heart is just a block of steel or some shit.”

 

Taemin laughed at the distressed look adorning his friend’s features, amused by how offended he was at the failed attempt of scaring Taemin before willing the other to sit down beside him.

 

“Anyway,” Jongin started again as he sat down close to Taemin, “why did you want to meet here? Sick of dancing where only I can see you?” Taemin scoffed slightly, knocking against Jongin with his shoulder. “You said it yourself, you’re sick of having smelly dust in your nose even when you wake up the next day and hate sitting on your ass until it’s numb because of the hard ground. Though that can’t really be helped, you either start carrying a pillow with you or start doing some work to actually _get_ an ass.”

 

“My ass is perfectly fine, thank you very much,” Jongin said, looking at Taemin with a bemused frown, “or are you saying you’ve been staring at my ass more than I do? Because if so, then I’m offended. How dare you objectify me like that?”

 

They snorted before falling into a fit of giggles, and Taemin had half a mind to think about how they must look like to outsiders; two grown men on a bench at two in the morning, laughing with their heads thrown back and slapping each other’s shoulders. They must look like maniacs, but Taemin couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

It felt almost _normal_ right now, sitting there with Jongin. As if they didn’t only exist together at night. As if their encounters couldn’t cost them both everything they had.

 

After they calmed down from their gasping laughs, Taemin wondered where they would be if they met as normal people. At college, or at a party, where none of them were the sons of a Criminal or the President.

 

He wonders if they would’ve gotten along just as well. Wonders if, under different circumstances, they would still sit here right now, looking at each other with a sense of familiarity Taemin could’ve only ever dreamed of before.

 

“What’re you thinking about? You look like you just found out the formula for time-travel,” Jongin had said then, ripping Taemin from his line of thinking.

 

“Nothing, I just- I like this. Hanging out with you, I mean. Not only as a distraction or some kind of rebellion, either. And I just wondered what it’d be like if we weren’t in the positions we are right now, you know?”

 

There were more things to be said, words unspoken between the lines, but it seemed like Jongin still understood everything Taemin wanted to tell him but was unable to get out of his mouth, if the way he scooted closer to Taemin and laid a hand down onto his thigh was anything to go by.

 

Jongin walked him home that night, following Taemin through the dark alleys he always sauntered through to avoid getting recognized, not really talking while walking closely by each other, rather just enjoying the warm air flowing between them and the presence of another person to lean on next to them.

 

When they arrived in front of the backroom window, Jongin slid his hand up Taemin’s arm while saying his usual goodbye with a small wave of the other hand.

 

Taemin’s left arm tingled bitterly until he fell asleep that night.

 

 

-

When Taemin would wake up each morning – sleep deprived and still some remainders of dirt under his nails – he always took some time to reflect on the previous events that happened with Jongin.

 

For example, the night where Jongin had danced in front of him for the first time and how he’d made it look so effortlessly beautiful, or the night they decided to have a small pick-nick in the middle of the park with old bread and some cheap wine Taemin managed to sneak out of his father’s cabinet. They drank straight out of the bottle, neither having thought of bringing some kind of glasses, while wincing at the strong taste. The grass under them was soft to sit on, and Taemin wondered where they would go when summer turned to fall and then to winter.

 

It sent a shiver up Taemin’s spine when he realized how far he was planning for this to continue. Shocked him momentarily how he had gotten so used to seeing Jongin every night that he couldn’t really imagine stopping anymore. Taemin wondered if Jongin felt the same, if he found Taemin to be more than just a simple _distraction_ at this point, too, and when he looked at the other – lips stained red from the wine, but his eyes still intently trained on Taemin – he thought that there was definitely more to this _thing_ than just the solemn need of distracting each other.

 

That night was probably one of the most prominent ones in Taemin’s mind, even if they were likely more drunk than anything else after they’d finished the bottle of wine. They talked non-stop, laughed after Taemin choked on the drink as Jongin started up a new topic of conversation regarding his sexuality.

 

“No, like, you don’t get it. I’m _so_ _fucking_ _gay,_ ” Jongin had slurred, to which Taemin retorted with a, “then we must not have met yet. Hi, I’m Lee Taemin.” After which they both laughed probably way too loud for the early hours of the morning, but it didn’t seem to matter when Taemin had Jongin’s wide smile in front of him and the clear sound of his breathless laughs reverberating in his ears.

 

The memory of them lying in the grass with the empty bottle of wine next to them and breadcrumbs littering every crease in their clothes brought a grin to his face. He blinked slowly, reveling in his last quiet moments of the day before getting up and moving towards the shower.

 

 

-

 

 

The first time they went to the city together, Taemin couldn’t stop glancing over his shoulder every ten seconds until he felt two strong hands grab the sides of his head, turning it to face forward.

 

“There’s no one following you, trust me,” Jongin had murmured into his ear, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up even when Jongin had long since let go of his head.

 

He relaxed a bit after that, only glancing around whenever he heard an engine roar to life or heavier steps walking through a small alley next to them, but after a while all his attention was trained on Jongin talking about some weird kid he’d met upon entering his secret ballet-class.

 

Walking around the city was Taemin’s idea, actually. He tended to get bored when he couldn’t move for a longer time, so after a few nights spent sitting around the park with the occasional alcohol raising the volume of their voices, Taemin had suggested strolling around the city for a bit. Jongin was a bit reluctant to agree, but with Taemin grabbing his shoulders and leaning in a bit _too_ close before shaking his friend’s body while speaking a promise of _Churros from the gas station, Jongin, they’re the best,_ he let himself be dragged to his feet and pulled towards the illuminated streets.

 

Even if their actual destination was the small, Churro-selling gas-station just a few miles away from the park, they managed to push and pull each other through nearly every small alley they could find, Jongin always claiming that _it’s a shortcut, Taemin, I know this area like the insides of my purse!_

 

Needless to say, Jongin didn’t own a purse and they had to turn back more than half of the times they entered a new street because they encountered a dead-end with only Graffiti drawings littering the walls and encouraging them to _fuck the Police._ Jongin snorted at that more than once.

 

Taemin didn’t mind all the small hold-ups, though, because with them pacing around the city, talking about everything and nothing at all while laughing about the dumbest jokes they could come up with, they looked like two normal boys enjoying a night out, uncaring of anything happening around them. And even if Taemin knew that by the time the birds started chirping they wouldn’t exist together anymore until night came again, he could live in his personal illusion just a tad bit longer.

 

They arrived at the small gas-station eventually, Taemin’s face hurting from laughing in the best possible ways as they stepped into the bright shop. He pulled out his facemask from the pocket of his denim jacket as an afterthought after he saw his reflection in the glass doors, quickly following Jongin to where he was standing by the refrigerators, staring at the cooled drinks as if they harbored the secret to mankind.

 

“Just pick whatever, I think I have some change left in my pockets, should be enough for drinks and some nice Churros,” Taemin said while stretching up to put his chin on Jongin’s shoulder, his fingers tapping along the other’s right arm. Jongin hummed softly before opening the refrigerator, grabbing a coke for himself before turning his head to look at Taemin questioningly. Taemin’s heart momentarily picked up from the lack of distance between their faces, Taemin’s head still supported on Jongin’s shoulder, but he didn’t back away upon feeling the other’s breath fanning over his cheek, just nodded in a way that made Jongin understand to grab another bottle for him.

 

Before Taemin handed Jongin all the small coins he was able to find in the depths of his pockets, they grabbed two Churros from the snacks section of the store. Taemin then placed the coins in Jongin’s hand with the promise of waiting outside for him.

 

While he was standing outside the gas-station, he cast a quick look on his phone to check the time. It was nearing 3 am, so they still had around two hours before Jongin would walk him back home again and turn the opposite way after softly stroking Taemin’s arm, making the latter flinch at the warmth blooming in his chest.

 

It was- _weird,_ Taemin would like to say, how easy it all was, considering the circumstances they undeniably were in. How easy it was to keep meeting Jongin each and every night, how easy it was to talk with him as if they’d known each other their whole lives. How easy it was to be so dependent on one single person.

 

Taemin had always kept himself away from getting close to anyone he might end up feeling something for, kept telling himself that he wasn’t in the place to have any relationships at this stage of his life, that it wouldn’t only be a hindrance to his father’s job, but also to Taemin’s own life. So he simply never let himself really open up to anyone since the day they moved into the mansion in the middle of the city. He was fourteen at the time without any idea that he would some day prefer sneaking out in the midst of the night to living the life in a beautiful mansion.

 

He looked up when he saw the doors slide open, Jongin stepping out with a plastic bag in one hand while trying to unscrew his coke with the other. Taemin grabbed the bag out of his hand and walked towards one of the benches placed next to the gas-station, sitting down and fishing his own drink and the two snacks out of the crumpled bag with a happy noise.

 

“You seem to really like these things,” Jongin laughed, sitting down next to Taemin and finally managing to open his botte.

 

“Are you kidding me? Churros from this gas-station are the absolute _best_ thing this world has to offer. Divine. Godlike. Ten out of ten would eat for the rest of my life,” Taemin responded with his arms moving to further portray his utter love for the snack. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’ve never had them before,” he continued after seeing Jongin eye the baked goods with curiosity.

 

The other just shrugged, and Taemin looked at him as if he just grew a second head. “Oh my God. That’s it, I’m leaving. I won’t even let you walk me home anymore, you have just destroyed this beautiful relationship.”

 

Jongin laughed, sliding all the way over to Taemin until their thighs touched to grab into the bag and pull his own snack out before leaning his weight onto Taemin. “Or,” he began saying, “I could just try it right now and give you a Live review on it instead of breaking our lifelong bond.”

 

Taemin encouraged him to take a bite of the food in an exaggerated manner, shaking his shoulders and letting out a too-loud sound of victory as soon as he saw the surprised look on Jongin’s face. “See, I told you it’d be the best thing you’ve ever tasted! You know you can trust me,” he’d said, still looking at Jongin with a stupid grin on his face.

“Yeah, I know I can,” Jongin then said, in a way that was so sincere it nearly made Taemin freeze on the spot while looking down to Jongin’s nose to distract himself from his powder-covered lips when he talked. As soon as he looked into Jongin’s eyes again, though, there was a certain _something_ there that made Taemin’s resolve grow weaker and weaker, and when Jongin licked his lips to get rid of the excess sugar coating them, something inside of Taemin _snapped._

He leaned forward that last bit, crossing the distance between their faces without giving himself time to think – not that his brain was working at the moment, anyway – and effectively pushed his lips to Jongin’s, who seemed to have lost all ability to move under Taemin’s ministrations.

 

It ended nearly as quickly as it began, Taemin pulling away with an apology already halfway out of his mouth when Jongin grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him back in, and suddenly _Taemin_ was the one not budging a single inch. He willed himself to regain his composure and finally closed his eyes before moving his lips against Jongin’s, letting his hand grab onto the other’s shoulder.

 

Jongin kissed like Taemin was the only thing keeping him breathing; desperate, passionate, _breathtaking._ Kissing Jongin felt like not being able to breathe in the best way possible, like putting your head underwater to drown out everything else around you and then resurfacing to take in a deep breath before diving in again. Kissing Jongin felt natural, like it was the hundredth time they’d done this, but it was still so entirely _new_ that Taemin didn’t know how to describe it when Jongin’s mouth opened under his own pliant ones.

 

It made Taemin smile when they broke apart, noticing that he was the reason Jongin’s pupils dilated nearly to the size of leaving no hint of the usual warm brown color they shined in, that _he_ was the reason for Jongin’s lips to be an even deeper shade of red than when they were stained from the cheap wine Taemin had brought to one of their meet ups in the park those few nights ago.  

 

They looked at each other, so long that it should’ve been awkward but wasn’t, not between them both huffing out breathless laughs and with Jongin leaning his head down to rest on Taemin’s shoulder, heaving a small sigh from his throat before mumbling, “we should’ve done this _a lot_ sooner,” to which Taemin laughed and agreed with a quiet, “yes, definitely, but we still have around an hour before we gotta go, so we better make up for that lost time.”

 

Sliding into bed that night, Taemin finally felt like he could breathe freely.

 

 

-

 

 

Nothing much changed after that night, not really.

 

They still laughed over the most trivial things, still shared every little detail about their previous day with each other, and Taemin still felt as if he could strip himself bare of the facades he wore during the day the moment he saw Jongin’s figure walk towards him. The main difference was that there was a lot more kissing involved now, not that either of them minded. They usually started their night like they did the whole past two-nearly-three months they’ve been seeing each other before one of them – usually Taemin, because he’s as impatient as one could possibly be – grabbed the other by the neck and slowly inched closer, always leaving time for the other to back away. Not that either of them ever would.

 

Taemin liked it. A lot. Probably too much, but he couldn’t care. Couldn’t care, when Jongin would drop him off in front of the backroom window and give him a lingering kiss instead of the simple stroke against Taemin’s arm, couldn’t care, when he would drop his head on Jongin’s lap to feel the other softly card his fingers through his blonde strands of hair, and he _definitely_ couldn’t care when he had Jongin pushed against a brick wall in some derelict alley in the city with the only sounds around them being the few by-passing cars and the harsh breathing escaping their mouths.

 

Not everything was perfect. Far from it, actually. But Taemin expected nothing else. Didn’t expect _not_ to feel his leg quivering under the table while talking to his father, only waiting for night to come so he could return to Jongin’s warmth. He also expected his father to eventually grow suspicious of his sudden mood changes every day. So when he picked up a conversation at dinner one evening, Taemin wasn’t the least bit surprised.

 

It began innocently enough, a simple question of what Taemin was up to these days, that he seemed happier than a few weeks ago and if there was anything _special_ going on in Taemin’s life, to which his mother tuned in helpfully, “or _someone_ special,” with a wink that freaked Taemin out just the slightest bit.

Taemin was quick to deny her statement, though, willing himself not to blush under the intent gaze his father had on him. He started absentmindedly picking at his food, hoping that they would drop the topic already and be satisfied with Taemin’s excuse of, “the weather’s been really nice lately, must be what’s getting my mood up.”

 

Taemin should’ve known they wouldn’t stop, and when his father said, as nonchalantly as he possibly could, “it’s just, sneaking out in the middle of the night and only coming back at the crack of dawn usually suggests _more_ than just being happy about the _weather.”_

Taemin promptly choked on his sip of water, urging his brother so clap him on the back to stop his coughing fit.

 

When he regained his ability to breathe normally again, he was bewildered to see the small smirk tugging at his parents’ mouths. Taemin wanted to say something, make up some kind of excuse that would lower his chance of getting yelled at for probably the rest of his life, but the only thing escaping his mouth was a small, “What?”

 

His father chuckled, the sound piercing through the silence hanging in the room. “I had to stay up longer one night and heard you walk through the halls and out some old window – that, by the way, squeaks _awfully –_ and I just figured you wouldn’t do that just once. Also, I know you, Taemin, and I also know that you don’t sleep for thirteen whole hours if you went to bed at the same time we did,” he took a break to take a sip from his glass of wine, making Taemin increasingly anxious, “now, I can’t say I’m _thrilled_ to hear my nineteen-year-old son has been sneaking around behind my back, nonetheless behind the whole _office’s_ back, but I also know that I can’t stop you from wanting to enjoy living a normal life for once.”

 

Now _that_ made Taemin look up from his empty plate, eyes widening and undoubtedly making his question clear if his father was implying what Taemin thinks he was implying.

 

“I just want you to know, if you really _are_ seeing somebody – and I won’t even bother asking _who,_ because I know that’s something I’ll never get out of you – make sure to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt for trusting the wrong person. You’re gonna be stuck here for another three years, so I want you to at least have _some_ fun in that time.”

 

Taemin positively _beamed_ at his parents, and somewhere in the back of his mind Taemin was wondering whether they would still think that way if they knew it was _Jongin_ he was seeing every night.

 

Nevertheless, when Taemin left again that night - for once not having grass-stained knees after exiting the house, since he could now actually step through the front doors instead of squeezing through the small window in the backroom – and made his way towards their newly-proclaimed spot, both Taemin and Jongin having agreed on the abandoned warehouse seeming a bit _too_ much like the base of two serial-killers meeting up, nervously waiting for Jongin to show up so that he could tell him everything that had happened a few hours prior.

 

Thinking about it later, bursting out a frantic, “ _my father knows”_ as soon as he saw Jongin rounding the corner _might_ not have been the best way to tell the other the news, if the look of utter terror crossing Jongin’s features was anything to go by. After quickly reassuring that, _no, he doesn’t know about you,_ Jongin seemed to practically _fall_ into Taemin in relieve. It made Taemin let out a small laugh while patting his boyfriend’s back.

 

Jongin soon straightened himself up, standing some inches taller than Taemin yet again before inquiring for Taemin to tell him everything his father had said. Taemin quickly pulled him towards the patch of grass that had already permanently flattened because of them only ever sitting at the exact same place before he began reciting everything he managed to remember in his excitement.

 

“Wait, wait. He _actually_ fucking allowed his son to leave the house, alone, in the middle of the night to probably meet up with someone he _doesn’t even know?”_ Jongin had asked, voice sounding incredulous in disbelief. Taemin shrugged, responding, “I know, right? I thought he was fucking with me the whole time and just _waited_ for him to finally yell at me and not let me leave the house ever again.”

 

With a final sigh Jongin let himself fall down onto the grass, back hitting the ground softly and making the few dried leaves under him crunch with every move. It brought a smile to Taemin’s face, seeing Jongin not look at the stars or the flowers blooming next to them, but at _him_. It was weird, though, how the gaze in Jongin’s eyes would’ve been the same if he were to look at either of those things; curious, intent, _awestruck_. As if Taemin’s eyes held something equally as fascinating as the universe itself.

 

Taemin silently wondered if, all this time, that was exactly what he had looked like when he’d seen Jongin laugh so hard he threw his head back before covering his mouth with his hand until the sound faded into a breathless giggle, or when he’d watched Jongin dance _after_ the time in the warehouse, his moves seemingly having become even _sharper_ while still being so absolutely _Jongin_ Taemin had a hard time comprehending it. Though there wasn’t really any point in wondering, Taemin knew. Because he didn’t have to _wonder_ whether he had fallen helplessly in love with Jongin more than he had to actually _accept_ it.

 

Taemin had never been a person to be fond of relying on people - always taking pride in his ability to do everything as independently as somehow possible - yet when he felt Jongin’s calloused hand cup his left cheek to pull him down and place his lips softly but intently on Taemin’s own, he thinks that relying on Jongin isn’t something he should shame himself for. He also thinks that accepting the feeling bursting in his chest when Jongin’s free hand moves to slide along Taemin’s waist _wasn’t_ accepting _defeat_. It was simply accepting Jongin _,_ and that’s all Taemin’s ever wanted.

 

 

-

 

 

It got easier after that evening with his father _allowing_ him – he still couldn’t quite believe that – to go out and spend the night to have fun. It wasn’t easy, but a lot more bearable than having to tip-toe his way through the hallways while praying to every deity there is that he wouldn’t wake anyone up.

 

They still had to be careful, obviously. Seeing the President’s son make out with another man at 3 am outside of a barely-lit McDonald’s wouldn’t make the _best_ title-page of a newspaper, after all, even if no one actually knew who exactly Jongin was. It didn’t matter to Taemin, _hasn’t_ mattered to Taemin for a very long time. He often wondered when he began to see Jongin no longer as the son of his father, but rather as just Jongin, no correlation to any of the people his father was constantly dragging around with him. Taemin finds that it might have already been after the first week of the continuous meet ups. It wouldn’t be surprising if that were the case, at least.

 

It was still the reality, though, which would always become more than apparent when Jongin dropped him off a few feet away from the mansion, saying his goodbyes with a heated kiss in the shadows before parting with the words, “I gotta go home, see you tomorrow.”

 

One night they were sitting outside of a nightclub, neither of them keen on going in but Jongin insisting that _they play good music, Taemin, I can’t live with the same six songs from your playlist forever, you know,_ while Taemin played with Jongin’s brown hair. Jongin’s head was dropped on Taemin’s shoulder, and it didn’t take long for the other to notice something was off about the way Taemin’s fingers seemed to stutter every so often while moving along his scalp.

 

Jongin was kind enough not to lie to Taemin and say that everything was completely fine, but he could see the sincerity when he raised his head and told Taemin with a convinced voice, “you said it yourself, in three years you won’t be the President’s son anymore and won’t have to hide your life to preserve some kind of image. I don’t know what we’ll do then, and I’m not sure what will have happened until then, but I’m sure we’re going to have more of a clue than we do right now. And don’t think for a second that I plan on leaving anytime soon. You’re in for this ride now, if you like it or not.”

 

Jongin chuckled lightheartedly at the end of his small speech, involuntarily making Taemin’s mouth curve upwards, too, before he leaned in to touch his forehead against Jongin’s, breathing a nearly silent, “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” which Jongin would’ve missed if they weren’t literally sharing the same air at that moment.

 

It was Jongin who pushed forward the last bit, making their lips meet like they had what felt like hundreds of times already. There was something different this time, though. Something about the way Jongin cradled Taemin’s jaw in his one hand while the other slid - almost possessively - around his waist. Something about how the movement of their lips didn’t feel as rushed as it usually did, as if they had all the time in the world despite sitting just out of sight from the multiple clubgoers around them. Something about the way Taemin fully gave into every touch, every feeling Jongin managed to give him.

 

The need for air overtook eventually, forcing them to break away just enough to let air flow in through their mouths. Taemin wouldn’t have needed to hear the words Jongin whispered into the space between them to know exactly what he was thinking, to know exactly what that specific kiss meant for both of them. But Taemin _also_ wouldn’t deny that, upon him speaking the same three words right back at Jongin and seeing those eyes crease at their edges with how wide he was smiling, it made Taemin feel an entirely new kind of consumed.

 

They never stopped, even if they probably should have, and Taemin couldn’t have wanted it any other way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely didn't expect this to get this long, but it was so much fun to write I just couldn't bring it to an end.
> 
> This whole thing was based off [this Twitter post](https://twitter.com/taekaibible/status/980478188559183872), because it was just too tempting I had to write it.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this! Comments and criticism is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Scream at me over Taekai or other gay stuff on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nsftaemin)!


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